In the middle of the night, Summer called. Actually, it was almost morning where she was, in Vancouver, but Summer was a nocturnal creature. I could hear music and voices—a lot of them—in the background.

Lucky for her, I was wide awake. I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d just been lying here on the bed, my head throbbing with the memory of Hawaiian music and Seth’s body grinding up against mine.

“You okay?” was the first thing she said to me.

Though I doubted she could hear me when I answered, “Where the hell are you?”

The noise dimmed as she shut herself into some room where she could hear me. “You broke up with Ash?”

I sighed, but I doubted she heard that, either. “We were never really together, Summer. You’re having a party?”

“I know you weren’t. But judging by the trail of empties he’s leaving on my carpet, he obviously thought so. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And yeah, I’m having a party. You know. It’s a Sunday.”

That was typical. It’s a Wednesday. It’s a Monday. It’s my quarter-birthday. Summer never needed an actual reason to celebrate.

“So are you okay or what?” she pressed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you never answered me on that.”

“No,” I told her. “I’m not okay. And everyone asking me if I’m okay just makes me feel less okay.”

“I know. I know you hate everyone worrying about you. But shit, bitch… What’s going on with Seth?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you fucking him?” Leave it to Summer to cut right to the chase. “That’s what everyone wants to know. I just have the balls to ask.”

“I’m not talking to everyone,” I said. “I’m talking to you.”

“I know that, babe. It’s a figure of speech. Have you seen his dick yet?”

“Is that another figure of speech?” I asked dryly.

“No. It’s a question.”

“I’m not fucking him.”

“Maybe you should be. Everyone’s gonna think it anyway. It’s all over the worldwide web. You might as well have some fucking fun.”

“If his dick’s in the guest cottage and my pussy’s over here,” I said, “I don’t see that happening.”

“Please. He’s not gonna kick you out of bed, Elle.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I saw those pictures of the two of you, on the beach.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Plus, you know. You’re super hot?”

“Why are you so keen to get me laid?”

“Because I’m always keen to get you laid.”

That much was true. It had almost killed her that it took me nearly a year after Jesse to screw anyone.

“Look,” she said. “If you’re done with Ash, just please don’t take a fucking year to line up your next piece of ass. Better yet, find several. You should have an entire fucking cocksquad at your disposal. You’re a rock star, for Christ’s sake. Time to start acting like one.”

Right; Summer had been on me to “slut it up like a rock star” as long as I’d known her.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, just like I had many, many times. “I’m just a one-cock-at-a-time girl.”

“Then find one and make it your bitch. And by the way, I do not wanna hear about the time you could’ve screwed Seth Brothers in Hawaii but didn’t and now you regret it, for like, the next year of my life.”

“You won’t.”

“Babe. It’s me. I know how you obsess about these things.”

“I do not.”

“Babe.”

Fuck. She knew me too well.

I’d totally been lying here obsessing when she called.

“I didn’t obsess about Ash,” I said in my defense.

“That’s true. Which was how I knew you weren’t gonna keep him around for long.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry…”

I rolled over, and the room rocked woozily around me. I groaned. I’d definitely had too many of those fruity cocktails; I was gonna feel it in the morning. I fucking hated hangovers. Couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had one.

Yes, actually… I could. It was the morning after Jesse broke up with me. Worst hangover ever. Nothing to make you feel like someone had just flushed your heart down the toilet like having your head in one for an entire day.

“We should really be having this conversation in person,” I told her. “I know you care about Ash…”

“And so do you. That doesn’t mean either of us should feel guilty because we’re not in love with him.”

I sighed again. Relieved that she understood me so well, and that she wasn’t upset about any of this. “I think I’m in love with you right now.”

“Get on a plane,” she said. “I’ll show you a good time.”

I laughed, but it came out as a hiccup. “I’m gonna get some sleep, okay? Or try to. I haven’t been sleeping much. This shit with Ash, and with the band…”

“You sure about that? First member of your cocksquad could be waiting for you…”

“I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping. It’s like three in the morning.”

“Even better. You can slip in and out like a wet dream. He won’t even know you’re there.”

“That’s… disturbing.”

“Is Flynn there? What about Flynn?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Fine. But I’m having a party when you get back. I’ll fill it with eligible hot dudes for you.”

She would, too. Summer was kinda queen of the hot dudes party scene. Went hand-in-hand with being a shit-hot DJ; the girl had never wanted for a cocksquad of her own.

“Goodnight, party girl.”

After we’d hung up, my phone jingled with a text message. It was from Summer; a black-and-white photo of Seth she’d obviously snagged from the internet. It was from his later days with Dirty; he was looking all angsty and cool, walking into a bar as people pawed at him. And there I was, in the background, climbing out of a limo.

Then she texted an emoji: a smiling cat face with hearts for eyes—our personal shorthand for wet pussy.

I groaned again and stashed the phone away.

* * *

I still couldn’t sleep. The ceiling fan looped lazily overhead and I just stared at it, unable to shut off my brain.

I was obsessing, yes.

Not about what Summer had said, exactly. She’d been known to encourage me to have sex with pretty much every semi-attractive male who happened across my path since the day I met her, over five years ago now. Including the ones I was never, ever going to have sex with, such as Zane, Dylan, Brody and Jude, men who were far more family to me than potential fuckmates—no matter how attractive they were.

It was about the fact that, for once, I actually wanted the man in question.

Badly.

And that was a bad idea. Kinda like Ash had been a bad idea… though for different reasons.

This, in fact, was a worse idea.

Far, far worse.

So why wasn’t that stopping me?

Why was I climbing out of bed, pulling on a T-shirt and panties and creeping down the stairs, as quietly as I could, like some high school girl sneaking out to bone her hot college boyfriend? There wasn’t even anyone in the house.

I did not yet know what I was doing, other than walking the line… or wobbling over it, half-drunk and horny. I was going to stand in the living room and gaze out the window at the cottage where Seth slept like some fucking lame-ass stalker, and then I was gonna decide what to do.

And that’s what I did.

I stood there in the dark, looking out at the lanterns dangling on his patio, aglow in the night. I pictured myself turning around, going right back upstairs, getting into bed and going to sleep. Waking up tomorrow with not one thing changed.

Instead, I drifted outside. Right through the non-existent wall, where the living room flowed out onto the patio, and down the little stone path that connected the big house to the guest cottages. Hoping and praying the entire way that I didn’t run into Flynn on his nocturnal rounds. He’d probably think I was some paparazzo intruder and brain me with the barrel of his gun.

I stood in the glow of the lanterns on Seth’s patio and looked around. The doors to Flynn’s cottage and Joanie’s were closed, but they were only screen doors. There was no sound but the wind in the trees, the faint roar of the ocean. At least I was lit up here, my platinum hair a dead giveaway in the lantern light; no way Flynn would accidentally shoot me. Though I would have to explain what I was doing here, stalking Seth.

No; fuck that. I didn’t have to explain shit to Flynn. He worked for me, right?

So why was I so fucking nervous about getting caught?

Because this is wrong.

Because you shouldn’t be doing this.

Because fucking around with Seth would be selfish and stupid.

While I was telling myself all of this, I tried his door. It was a sliding screen with a billowy curtain fluttering on the inside. It was unlocked, but I didn’t slide it open.

Instead, I hesitated.

I pictured what would happen if I went inside.

Seth was of course sleeping; it was the middle of the night. He was lying on his bed, maybe naked, maybe draped in a sheet. As I approached, he woke up. He saw me. Maybe he said my name, with a question mark at the end of it. He watched as I slipped off my shirt. Then I slid into bed with him in my panties.

And no, he did not kick me out.

I took a breath. My heart was racing.

Christ, was there something wrong with me?

I turned and hightailed it back to the house, ran straight up the stairs, closed myself in my bedroom, and flopped into bed.

I’d promised myself, after Jesse, I wasn’t going to do this.

I’d sworn to myself, up and down: No more rock stars.

Before Jesse, I’d had several other boyfriends—men who were in no way involved with the music industry. Smart, classy, stable men. Men who had money and a life of their own, but who treated me well. Like gold, actually.

There was Ritchie, the restaurateur.

There was Martin, the tech consultant.

There was John, the investor and philanthropist, who’d proposed to me. I’d turned him down.

And then… there was Jesse Mayes. The bad boy rock star who, for some reason, had become a fantasy that I could not shake. Somewhere toward the end of my relationship with John, the idea of Jesse and I getting together had taken hold, and I could not let it go until I made him mine.

And make him mine I did.

I went after him with the force of a small hurricane.

Then, predictably—or at least, it was predictable to everyone but me—Jesse broke my heart, as bad boys do.

After that, I spent a year in dating limbo, afraid to open myself up to anyone, to even let anyone get near enough to ask me on a date, much less touch me… And then, at Jesse’s wedding, I ended up fucking the baddest bad boy rock star I knew. The man who arguably surpassed Zane for male slut of the year—which was saying a whole fucking hell of a lot.

Ashley Player was so not the man for me, and yet I’d fucked my way right over the line with him.

And now, I was actually thinking about doing it again… with Seth.

No. Not true. I wasn’t thinking about doing it.

I was aching to do it.

I’d already broken my promise to myself with Ash, yes. Not only had I sworn myself off of rock stars, I’d very specifically sworn myself off of anyone like Jesse Mayes. Gorgeous. Famous. Tall, dark and egotistical. That was the recipe for heartbreak. Guitarists, specifically, were to be avoided at all costs. More specifically, if he played guitar and sang—double threat—I was to turn my ass around and run for the fucking hills.

Ash fit every one of those criteria, but Ash was just for sexy fun times. That’s how I justified it, to make it somehow okay that I’d broken my promise to myself.

And now… Seth.

Seth fit every one of those criteria, too.

But I never saw it coming.

He was gorgeous, yes. Beautiful; I’d go so far as to say Seth was a beautiful man. Sexy, definitely. Famous, too, in his own way. He was tall, and now, with his sun-lightened locks cut off, he was even dark-ish. Except Seth didn’t have the inflated ego of my last two lovers. He definitely had an ego when it came to his talent; a justifiable one. He had confidence and charisma. He had a certainty about himself, a solidness. There was something incredibly attractive about that ego, and not in the way that Jesse’s was.

Jesse was flashy and devastating. A woman could feel it across a room—Jesse Mayes was a heartbreaker.

And Ash… Ash was exactly what his name told you he was. Ashley Player was a player.

Seth… I really couldn’t say.

Seth was still a mystery.

Yet I could not even pretend to myself that somewhere along the way screwing super-hot rock stars hadn’t become a hot spot for me. Like some nasty addiction I couldn’t shake or deny; I knew it was bad for me. Dangerous. That it would only do me harm.

And yet… it was like I suddenly understood what all the fangirls were always losing their shit about.

Maybe because I’d never had sex before like it was with Jesse. So motherfucking hot. I was just so fucking into him. Shitty for me, he didn’t exactly feel the same way. And the flip side of being totally fucking infatuated with him was the devastation I felt when he rejected me—a pain like nothing I’d ever known.

I’d never had my heart broken before. Not even close.

And still, here I was, wanting it again; that high of wanting someone that badly.

If only I could have it without the crushing low of the breakup at the end.

I wondered… Was this anything close to what Seth experienced when he felt the urge to get high, even though he knew what the aftermath, the flip side of it, would be?

Even as the heartbreak of the breakup had sent me screaming down a rollercoaster of emotional chaos, I’d managed to resist the urge: there were days I wanted to somehow get Jesse into bed with me, one last time, so I could fuck all my anger and hurt out—as if that would help anything. There were days when all I wanted to do was grab the nearest hot rock star, no matter who he was, and fuck him instead. There were days when I believed no one worthwhile would ever want me again. That I would never feel about anyone the way I felt about him.

I felt used, damaged and broken. Discarded.

And then there was Ash.

With Ash, the sex was scorching hot, but it was empty. A quick fix, meaningless. I didn’t want to own his heart like I’d wanted Jesse’s.

And in that, there was a different kind of suffering. I was realizing that now.

There were days, after I’d slept with Ash, that I felt like shit. Like I was only hurting myself.

And yet… I kept doing it.

And now here I was… and I had no idea what it would be like if I crossed that line with Seth. How far I might fall for him, or wouldn’t. How badly he might hurt me, or I might hurt him.

The only thing I knew for sure: if Seth and I had sex, we were both getting hurt.

Him, because it would only complicate things between him and the rest of the band.

Me, because my heart hadn’t fully healed. I was over Jesse, but I still wasn’t whole. I’d gotten past the heartbreak, but I hadn’t yet figured out how to put myself back together in the wake of getting smashed apart.

The fact was, I had no experience with how to do this, and apparently there was a fucking steep learning curve.

I still did not know when or how I would come out on the other side of this, feeling whole and stable and just fucking normal again.

I’d finally let go of the past, yet when I thought about getting emotionally involved with anyone again, I still felt broken.

I was unsure of my readiness to fall in love again.

And, simply put, I could not predict how my heart would react to having Seth Brothers, naked, in my bed.

If we had sex and—best case scenario—the sex was amazing… even if I felt wonderful right afterward… I did not know what would happen next.

I might turn into an ice queen. Freeze up. Become cold and distant.

I’d done that to men before.

I could also fall head-over-heels.

I’d done that before, too.

I seriously had no idea. And it was scary how out of control this made me feel.

Scarier still that it wasn’t immediately turning me off of the idea. That it wasn’t making me run for the hills.

That for some reason, it was just making me want to dive down that rabbit hole even more, and see where it went.